Chapter 10: A Reflection

In chapter 10,  we see Ricardo Morales enjoying his reflection in the mirror.  He then goes into a description of his neighborhood. He lives in a home with his family in a poor neighborhood, but a step up from where he came from three years ago. Ricardo reflects on how he considers his mother a Saint. 

Many Cones is a podcast novel based on true crime. The murders inspiring this crime fiction took place 30 miles from Chicago in Northwest Indiana, and captivated the area from the initial brutal crime scene all the way through and beyond discovery of a shockingly bizarre motive.   

Ricardo Morales was enjoying his reflection in the mirror.  His arms were extended, hands elapsed in front of his belt line, in body builder fashion. His shirt was off. He was flexing his pecs and turning slightly from side to side. People called him stocky. It’s not stocky, he thought, it’s barrel chested. It’s muscular.  

The noise outside his window was increasing and it broke his concentration. He went to the window and peered out. A group of at least sixty people filled the blacktop area abutting his residence; men, women, boys and girls prancing, dancing, and romancing. Four boomboxes played dueling Spanish stations. Although it was only early evening, the party atmosphere had already begun.  

Ricardo lived in the middle house of a cul-de-sac. His aunt and uncle owned the home. He and his mother had resided in the dwelling for the last three years. They shared the upstairs converted attic/bedroom.  Their respective beds adorned walls on opposite sides of the unfinished room. The flat was frigid in the winter and sweltering in the summer. The structure was small but a lifetime better than where Ricardo and his mother had escaped from.  

The neighborhood party developed every weekend night and once or twice during the week. The dead end was a perfect place for the revelers to assemble. Hidden from prying official eyes and yet out in the open. Alcohol and drugs were plentiful.  Sex was a macho peacock strut away. Arguments occurred at each gathering, usually late at night, but bloodletting fights and injuries were rare, invariably engendered by a slur or slight to someone’s pride.  

Ricardo had revered the revelry. Posturing, drinking, toking, flirting, boasting, fighting; everything that was important. His aunt and uncle had never attended the bashes and that angered him. They were normal people; they should have enjoyed themselves.  

At first, Ricardo prodded them to take part in the festivities. The excuse always given was that they were too tired from work. When the activities were in full swing, their two young children were not allowed outdoors. Ricardo finally came to the conclusion that they believed themselves too good to attend. Fuck ‘em, he had decided. Who needed ‘em?  

Ricardo’s mother never attended, never mixed with the crowd, but that didn’t surprise him. She was a saint. Even though they had very little, oftentimes nothing, she devoted every second of her time and energy to her little boy.  

About a month earlier, Ricardo abruptly stopped attending the gatherings. His friend, Richard Sparne, had shown him the error of his ways. Sparne introduced him to Mr. Albert Moffit.  Mr. Moffit introduced him to the possibility of becoming wealthy.  

Once he recognized the opportunities that were his for his taking, he realized that the people at the party were never going to amount to anything. They had no jobs, no aspirations, no chance to succeed. The drinking, drugs, and sex made the failures easier to accept, but in the morning, the failures still greeted you. Ricardo no longer courted failure. He had become an important man and very soon would be wealthy. Then he would care for his mother.